Dawnguard: The Daughter of Coldharbour
by DarthTrekkie2016
Summary: Only a few years have passed since the Lorethius clan wrought havoc and chaos through Tamriel. Now Lord Harkon wishes to see the prophecy Sirine read carried out. Will the newly formed Dawnguard be able to stop him? It would seem the Divines once more leave Nirn's fate to a handful of mortals.
1. Chapter 1: Sought Out

Dawnguard: The Daughter of Coldharbour

Preface: This story takes place in an alternate universe from cannon. Notable changes include no Skyrim Civil War, no White-Gold Concordat, and the preservation of the Dragonborn Emperors and Septim bloodline. References will be made to Vigil of Stendarr: Mehrunes' Razor, and certain characters will return. I am writing this so that it will be entirely capable of standing on its own, but know certain things in canon Elder Scrolls lore will not affect this universe. Enjoy.

Chapter 1: Sought Out

"In dealing with the undead, certain precautions must be taken. This blight upon Nirn kills many, from the unprepared adventurer to the unfortunate farmer. For most threats of the undead, or indeed other monsters, the Vigil of Stendarr provides ample protection, and Vigilants are typically dispersed enough that sending for one shouldn't take too long. When dealing with vampires, however, even more technical understanding is required. To this end, the Dawnguard was formed. However, I digress. What follows is my meticulous research into all matters of vampirism. I only hope they benefit many." Introduction to _Of Cursed Blood_ , by Galeven Nuledri.

The canyon outside Fort Dawnguard echoed with the sounds of steel off steel. The grunts and shouts of the warriors would follow each blow or parry. The daily sparring of the Dawnguard had been underway for nearly an hour now. Slowly, Magnus' rays had begun to fill the space. The thin mist carried the orange glow even lower than the actual beams struck. The dew made the ground slippery, finding footing was more difficult.

Just beyond the training grounds sat a great slab of ebony, in the shape of a dragon. It had rested here ever since the first days of the Dawnguard. Now, after having rushed across the path, a haggard Vigilant rested against it. He had been riding nonstop for almost a day, and was forced to leave his horse outside the gorge.

The warrior overseeing the sparring caught sight of the Vigilant. He raised his hand in welcome, recognizing the Breton's face. "Orment! All right you lot, that's good enough for today. Get yourselves fed and washed. Move it!"

The mass ascended the stairway to the fort, as Urieyn made his way to the statue. "It's been too long since the Vigil last paid us a visit. Come, you must need food and drink, we can ta-"

As he approached, he saw the color drained from Orment's face. "By the Nine. You look dreadful? Come, come, inside. What has happened?"

As Urieyn approached, Orment suddenly threw out an arm and grasped his friend's shoulder. "They burned it. One moment they weren't even there! The next, there was fire! Wings! Oh Gods, and the hounds! I… I…"

With that, he collapsed.

…

Amiatu and Adannea stood side by side on the outside walkways, high above the canyon floor. Amiatu watched as Adannea pulled back the string of her crossbow. The warm glow of the illuminated fog behind her seemed to make her auburn hair gleam. Through that hair, the very ends of her ears protruded. She let the bolt fly, and it struck the target dead center. She turned, smiling.

"Is it even possible for you to beat that shot?" She took Amiatu's place on the wall as he stepped forward. His tanned brow furrowed, like it so often would, as he stared down the distance. As he turned to her, his own rather long, black hair was caught in a brief wind.

"I doubt it. Gods know I'm going to try though." He loaded the bolt and drew back the string. Just as he was going to fire, however, the door swung open. A young Nord in chain stepped out, blue eyes searching quickly for the two.

"Ah, Amiatu, Adannea, come quick! The Captain needs us."

Amiatu groaned as he unloaded the crossbow. Adannea shot him a look before answering.

"Alright Sigvald, we'll be right there."

Sigvald nodded. "I suggest you hurry. This isn't a normal summons. Something's _happened_." Quickly he disappeared down the stairwell. Without another wasted moment, the pair descended after him.

…

Captain Aldfing paced, Orment sat in a chair before him. The Vigilant's head was in his hands, his hair a mess. He had painfully recounted the events of the night before. He told of the burning of the Hall of the Vigilant, the pack of death hounds that pursued him, the sudden aggression of the vampires. Now, the Captain and the three he had gathered were stunned, unsure of how to continue.

Hesitantly, Sigvald spoke up. "Um, sir. Perhaps this attack was from Morrowind? Has the Vampire King finally made his move?"

Aldfing shook his head. "Unlikely. He knows the Empire's already desperate to take him on. Provoking them doesn't sound like him. Besides, if it was an attack, an army would've been spotted by now. This was the action of local vampires, I'm sure of it."

Orment raised his head, fixing his gaze on Aldfing. "I agree. The Hall is a recent building. I doubt that Viantar even knows it exists."

Amiatu nodded, not moving from his place against the wall. "Do you have any leads as to the group that attacked you? Anything at all that could be of some help?"

Orment nodded, though he visibly winced. "Yes. Though now I fear. One of our people, Vigilant Tolan, was sure he had discovered something of note in Dimhollow Crypt. I was unconvinced myself. But if the vampires took action so soon after his departure… I'm now sure he has found something."

"Very well." Aldfing stopped his pacing, and motioned to the three as he continued. "I want you three to go investigate Dimhollow Crypt. Vigilant Orment and I will make way to what's left of the Hall. I need to see if anything was left that could give us a clue about our adversary. Take what you need."

The three saluted, and exited. As soon as the door was shut and they were off, Adannea began whispering. "I don't know any Skyrim vampires who would be so bold as to attack the Vigil quite like this."

Amiatu agreed. "Yeah. Honestly, I'm not sure whether to be thankful or annoyed that they didn't attack us. I mean, we're their real threat, right?"

Sigvald laughed nervously. "I'd still be thankful for that."

They separated briefly, gathering their own things and making different preparations. Amiatu set about tending to his armor and swords, making doubly sure the silver blade was to his liking.

Sigvald, after much fuss and many apologies, managed to borrow the arcane table. For the next hour he stood, lacing his gear and blade with various enchantments and upgrades. He then found the biggest pack he owned, and packed it full of magical tomes and texts on anything vampiric.

Adannea already had her crossbow and bolts, and never went anywhere without her daggers. So she ended up standing about impatiently awaiting her friends. Despite herself, she ended up drinking with some other Dawnguard just to make the time pass.

After an hour and a half, along with however much time it took to pry Adannea from the table, they were underway. The ride to Dimhollow Crypt would be a decently long one. They would thankfully be able to take the road for most of the distance, but they would need to scale a mountainside to reach the entrance.

As they rode down the cobbled path to Riften, a silent black bat shot across the morning sky. The pattern it took was jagged and wavering, clearly it was struggling to push on. But the information it carried could not afford to be delivered late.

…

At the same time the Dawnguard had about passed Windhelm, the bat flew through an open window to the Palace of Vivec. The antechamber to the great hall was empty, and so Menemir was unhindered in his quick transformation. He silently slowly swung wide the solid oak doors, a slight creak echoing through an otherwise silent stone room. Opposite these doors was a tall, black throne. A crimson strip of carpet, with gold lace decoratively twirling through it, stretched across the polished grey floor. A meager slit of sunlight broke the shadows.

Upon his throne, once more in his deep, trance-like state, was King Viantar. The Lord of Morrowind. Before him knelt a single Dunmer, a noble of House Redoran. It was not the King's donor, so clearly he was here on business. Menemir shut the door, quietly as was possible, and patiently stood a few feet before it.

A moment passed before Viantar's head rose from his hands. He nodded coolly to the noble. "Yes Braythyr, I think that will do fine. But you understand not all survive the rituals, correct?"

Braythyr nodded, hastily rising. "Of course my Lord, I know. But for my daughter to ascend to the Lorethius, I…" His head shook, clearly he was searching for words. "I am overwhelmed! The joy! I shall go tell her immediately!"

As Braythyr strode away, giving a quick bow to Menemir before disappearing, he could scarcely contain his cries of happiness. As the doors slammed behind him, Menemir quickly crossed the hall. As he once more stood at his master's side, he leant in to relay the news.

"My Lord. I came here in somewhat of a hurry, forgive my breach of protocol. However, it would seem as though the Volkihar family has taken a hostile action against Skyrim."

Viantar barely stirred as he delivered his response. "How so?"

"Well, master… They've burned the Hall of the Vigilant to the ground. Slaughtered those there. It would seem they're hunting any Vigilants still in Skyrim now." 

Though his head shook in disapproval, Viantar still sounded entirely disinterested. "I did warn them that if they were the aggressor in any conflict, I could not help them. This seems to be a simple matter. Why have you come, Menemir?" 

Menemir cast a quick glance around the room before responding. "The Vigil found out about Dimhollow. Now the Volkihar know too. I fear it is only a matter of time before…"

Viantar nodded. "Before she is discovered. What of the Dawnguard?"

"When I left Skyrim, reports suggested a Vigilant had gone to warn them. If this particular one knows about the crypt, it's entirely possible they have people going there as well. What should we do?"

Though there was a brief echo of the question, there was a long silence. Both were still. Menemir's eyes did not leave his master. Viantar's drifted occasionally as he thought.

Finally, he answered. "Nothing. If we were to do anything yet, it would make the Dawnguard uneasy. With the support they've been gaining in Skyrim, I don't want to do that. As for you, I want you to follow. Watch them, listen to them, and I shall keep my mind on you. I need to be able to more directly follow this."

"Yes, my Lord. It will be done."

He hurried away down the carpet and out the great doors. Viantar stood from his throne, and began pacing the length of his elevated platform.

…

The sun had begun falling about an hour ago, and it was an uncommonly warm day for the region they were in. There was only a foot of snow, instead of the usual two to three. The climb was long, but not very difficult. The actual finding of Dimhollow Crypt, however, took them a good hour or so. When they did find it, Amiatu was severely disappointed.

"Seriously? This is the place supposedly responsible for this mess? It's a crack in a damned mountain!" Even as he grumbled, his hand went slowly to his sword. Without lighting anything, in fear of drawing any unwanted attention, they entered quietly.

For a good while they walked in relative silence. Occasionally a drip from an icicle would sound off, but aside from that it was just their soft footsteps and the cold air blowing. As they went further in, however, they began to hear voices.

"Do you think anyone will be coming for him?"

"What, the Vigilant? Don't be paranoid. We burned their hall to the ground. Slaughtered them like the dogs they are. No offense." A bark rang out through the tunnels.

The three crept around the lip of an opening, where the tunnel they had found became a wide, open cave. Across a small and shallow fall, there were two figures in grey armor. The strange material came to their shoulders in a point. One of them wore a hood. From both of their eyes came a warm, orange glow.

"No one even knows he's here, let alone is coming to find him."

The death hound between them suddenly rose from the floor. It sniffed at the biting cold, and then hunched down. It glared angrily at the tunnel, and began to growl.

"What is it boy? Another wolf wander in? You can take him. Go on, get."

There was a strange mechanical sound, like the fast whirring of a wheel, and the snapping of cord. The death hound went silent and rigid, and collapsed. A small wooden bolt jutted from the skull, right between the eyes. As Adannea began loading another bolt, Amiatu came charging and bellowing out from the tunnel.

End Chapter 1


	2. Chapter 2: Dimhollow

Chapter 2: Dimhollow

"Vampires dwell in all manner of places. Some prefer the isolation of a far off, forgotten castle. Others reside deep in the woods, in unassuming little cottages. Still others live right under our noses, mingling with normal society, picking their targets based on casual interaction. Some find the fact that vampires must have a place to live strange. That an immortal being would need to rest and recuperate. Indeed, vampires do not rest quite like a normal person would. Some however, usually the more powerful ones, can place themselves into a deep, long-lasting trance." Excerpt from _Of Cursed Blood_.

…

The ringing of steel off steel echoed throughout the cavernous Dimhollow Crypt. Amiatu plowed ahead, fending off the two vampires with flurries of steel and silver. As one of the two attempted to return the favor with their own assault, a bolt from Adannea dug into her shoulder. She turned to glare at her with her burning eyes, and was met with a bolt of lightning. She howled as the electricity seared her skin, and tumbled backward. Sigvald's hands crackled faintly as the energy dissipated.

Her companion, a somewhat stouter man, tripped over her as she fell. As he attempted to recover, Amiatu's silver blade plunged into his back. Only a brief dying cry escaped before he too fell.

As Adannea and Amiatu congratulated one another on their work, Sigvald looked further in, down the tunnel. "Well, I feel it's not unreasonable to assume they know we're coming now. So much for surprise."

Amiatu waved him off, now fixing his attention on the portcullis blocking their passage. "It'll be fine. The real problem is getting past this."

Sigvald pointed toward a small, ruined stonework a few feet off. "I'd assume there's some control mechanism there."

Without any further prompting, Adannea strode off toward it. As she disappeared into the entrance, Amiatu motioned to spots on either side of the portcullis. "Might want to…"

"Ah, yes. Right." The two set up their rather amateur ambush, Sigvald rather sure it wouldn't work. Still, anything that might give them a slight edge would be helpful. Slowly, the metal gate began to rise. The clanging of old chains and the occasional scrape against the rock made an ungodly racket. Sure enough, another vampire and hound rushed up.

Though the hound immediately recognized the danger, and rounded on Amiatu, the vampire rather amusingly continued on. "At last! I thought I'd have to work for dinner! Where are you, interloper?!" His question was answered with a fireball to the back. As he soared forward a good four feet, Amiatu quickly dispatched the hound.

They each shot a glance down the hall, though it was completely devoid of any more vampires. As they stood waiting for Adannea, now happily jogging up to meet them, Sigvald shook his head. "How stupid can these things be?"

"That stupid."

He shrugged. "Apparently."

The three continued down, a short stairway carrying them a while deeper into the mountain. The lighting was scarce, only a few torches had been lit. Adannea pointed to them. "Clearly, they've only just arrived. Our friend Vigilant may yet live."

Suddenly, there was a horrific scream from within. The three crept as fast as seemed safe up to an edge, strangely decorated with a bannister. The ledge they now stood on overlooked a most curious place. A circular stone platform stood in the center of a small pool, several archways decorating its top. The floor of the platform seemed to have an intricate design of crisscrossing lines. The room was lit almost entirely by small cracks in the stone, through which a small amount of light managed to crawl.

The most pressing concern, however, was directly beneath them. Another two vampires stood over the body of a man whose face was now so contorted in pain, it was hard to recognize as human. It looked as if the very bone structure had been warped in his anguish. Without giving him a second look, one of the vampires kicked him into the waters below.

"Well that was entirely useless. I told you keeping the Vigilant alive was a pointless endeavor."

The other laughed. "Whatever do you mean? I enjoyed it quite a bit. Weren't his threats and cries satisfying?"

"But they don't get us anywhere. We're no closer than he was to working out this damn crypt. There's got to be something to do with the braziers. Maybe they must be lit for the button to work? Maybe -"

His theorizing was cut short by a crossbow bolt, which plunged into his throat. He fell to one knee, coughing up blood, but rose. He turned, eyes quickly focusing on the three figures now marching down the stone stairs.

"Ach- Klla!" He pointed toward them, his other hand trying to remove the bolt. The second vampire drew twin swords and stood his ground. However bold the decision may have been, the twin arcs of fire that suddenly caught him quickly reduced his resolve, and body, to ash. As his superior finally freed the bolt from his throat, wounds already healing, he stood in stunned silence at where the other had just stood.

He was knocked to the ground, breathless, by Amiatu. He pressed the silver blade against his throat, but did not move to kill him. "Well, monster? Care to let us in on what you two were talking about."

Even as he did so, Sigvald and Adannea walked past him. Adannea turned back, a slight smile on her face. "You really think he'll tell us anything? He'd sooner die. Besides, Sigvald can work it out, right?"

He was already lost in the study of the place, however. His mind raced as he tried to identify the sigils and markings on the floor. Though he couldn't work out their meaning, it seemed as though the place was ancient. Certainly it was almost as old as some of the Nord ruins he had seen. His eyes soon fell on the button. As Amiatu drove the blade through the vampire's neck, Sigvald eyed the pedestal.

"So the button doesn't work? Perhaps the inner workings of whatever it controlled have broken. This place seems ancient. Still…" He reached out. "It can't hurt to try for ourselves."

As the last words left his lips, his hand came to rest on the button. Before he could even push down, a spike shot out from the device, piercing his hand. He called out, shrieking in pain. As his blood flowed down the spike, a purple light began to glow along a line in the floor. Once the light was fully alive, the spike receded. Sigvald fell back, clutching at his hand.

" **By the Nine!** " His hand glowed with a healing aura, and the ghastly hole in his other hand began to close. Adannea knelt at his side, as Amiatu averted his eyes. As a warrior, wounds had become mundane to him. But nothing was more off-putting than the way magic knitted the flesh back together, and replaced bone and muscle. He leaned over the barrier, just in case.

As Sigvald's breathing steadied again, the pain having mostly receded, he observed the light. "Well, at least we did… Something. By Ysmir…" His fingers still traced over his palm, and he approached the brazier much more slowly than he had the button.

"If we just…" He kicked it, mostly out of fear of losing his hands to a spontaneous magical fire. It slid nicely in the grooves, and came to rest where the light ended on that line. A similar purple light now glowed in the brazier. Another segment of the lines in the circle lit up. It stopped at a similar spot, where presumably another brazier was to be pushed.

Amiatu shook his head. "So how exactly did our undead friends miss that?"

Sigvald eyed the pedestal once more. "My best guess… I think the button requires a properly living being to press the button. The magic needs untainted blood to activate the sigil." He pointed to the carvings on the stone, now burning the same purple as the line.

They continued, circling the button and pushing the braziers into place. As Amiatu slid the final one to its spot, the platform shook, and dust was shook free from cracks in the stonework. Slowly, the room began to dip inward. The floor had begun to turn into a basin of sorts, with the pedestal remaining as it was, now an obelisk in the center of the platform. There was an audible hum.

Sigvald traced the sigil from a distance, trying to either memorize them or recollect their meaning. "Even one not trained in the art can feel this. These are powerful runes. I think most of them are protection spells, but there are some that are beyond my knowledge. I would recommend we stay back."

Adannea strung an arrow, nodding to one side of the obelisk. "I think whatever those runes are protecting is coming out."

With a grind of stone on stone, one of the walls slowly sank into the floor. A meager amount of light managed to work into the opening. The faint outline of a person was made visible. A faint glitter of jewels sparkled from behind them. As the bright orange eyes opened, Sigvald fell back as Amiatu drew his blades.

The vampire emerged from what was now clearly her eccentric coffin. However, she made no move to attack, or even to run. Instead, she stretched and groaned. After taking a moment to seemingly wake herself up, she eyed the group.

Her head tilted. "Huh… I was expecting… Well, an escort in bonemold, I suppose. Or others like me. Who sent you?"

Amiatu looked questioningly to Sigvald. Reluctantly, the mage answered. "Well, we were here to investigate the safety of a friend. He seemed interested in this place, and… We ended up opening you up."

She turned, surveying the cave. "Not much has changed. Hope I haven't been down for long."

As she did, the gemstones once more drew Sigvald's attention. "I… Um… Is that an elder scroll? On your back."

She paused. "Yes."

Adannea inched forward. "Hey, what are we doing you two?"

The vampire responded instead. "You're taking me out of this cave, is what you're doing. I need you to bring me home."

Amiatu laughed. "You can't be serious? Vampire or not, to think you're in any state to tell us what to do? As if. Let's finish up here and report back to the Captain. I'm sure he'd be interested to know we found an elder scroll."

He swung full force with both blades down on the vampire. The slid effortlessly through the air, and struck the stone. The clang echoed through the cave, and was followed by a thud as the vampire effortlessly pushed him to the ground.

Sigvald stepped back. "The speed! Adannea, wait!"

Ignoring him, Adannea loosed the arrow, which smacked harmlessly into the pillar that had just been behind the vampire. The bow was wrenched from her hands, and tossed aside.

Finally, she dashed to Sigvald. She stopped just short, and eyed him. His eyes quickly scanned her face. "No deformities… Lack of color, but that's normal. Great speed. Ears are still rounded. Divines…"

The fire that had been burning in his hands went out. "She's really… A Daughter of Coldharbour. A truly pure vampire."

She laughed a little. "You seem to know quite a bit. So I assume you'll be smart enough not to try and attack me."

He nodded silently. This seemed to please her. "Now, not that any of you asked, but..." She smiled and turned to see them all. "I'm Serana. Now if you wouldn't mind, I would appreciate it if someone would walk me home."

The three Dawnguard stared in disbelief for moment. Amiatu was the first to speak up. "Why, exactly, does a pure blooded vampire need an escort?"

She sighed. "I'm not exactly asking for the protection, you know. But I need to figure out what's been going on. I don't even know how long I've been here yet. So someone who's more knowledgeable would be a big help. Also, if anyone knows who sent you, I bet it'd be my father."

Without hesitation, though with hands still throbbing from striking the floor, Amiatu pointed his blades to her. "We were sent by the Dawnguard."

She shook her head. "Sorry. Not exactly stirring any memories with that."

The three glanced at one another. Sigvald coughed briefly, stepping forward. "I, uh… Suppose we could help you home. If you could guaranty our safety, that is."

She nodded, arms folded. "If I can promise you anything, it's that my father will be grateful to anyone who brings me and this thing back." She motioned to the scroll. "I can at least assure you you'll walk away alive."

Amiatu shook his head, mouth agape. "We can't seriously be doing this… Right?"

End Chapter 2


	3. Chapter 3: Unexpected Escorts

Chapter 3: Unexpected Escorts

"The level of connections vampires make varies, much like it would with mortals. Some are perfectly content to live their lives secluded, coming out of hiding only to hunt. Others seek company amongst their prey, as previously discussed. Then there are those who form clans and families together. Many mythic vampires had such clans of followers and thralls. Most notably confirmed as real is the Lorethis clan, now in control of the newly unified Kingdom of Morrowind. But other clans doubtlessly exist, and such a collection of powerful beings is a danger to any." Excerpt from _Of Cursed Blood_

…

The three Dawnguard and their vampiric guide now stood before an enormous castle. It sat just west of Solitude and Dragon Bridge, upon a small island. From the coast, the combined efforts of a suffocating mist and an illusionary dome shrouded it from view. Truly the perfect residence for a reclusive vampire.

As they neared the bridge, the heads of the gargoyles swiveled slightly. Despite clearly wanting to lash out at the mortal trespassers, the presence of Serana stayed their fury. So the three continued behind her in a rather uncomfortable quiet.

Soon enough they reached the top of the ramp. The doors to the keep stood guarded by a great portcullis. Between the gate and doors stood a watchman in humble attire, clearly another one of the undead. He had been uneasy as the mortals with armor and weapons drew near, but finally recognizing Serana, his attitude changed entirely.

"Divines… Raise the portcullis! Open the way for Lady Serana, and… Friends."

Even as he finished saying this, and the iron bars began to rise, five bats circled the group. Suddenly, between Serana and the Dawnguard, stood five more vampires. Each drew their swords, and glared down at the three.

As Amiatu and Adannea went for their weapons, Sigvald grabbed each of them. "I wouldn't. Trust me; we don't want to get ourselves into a fight here."

The Altmer in the front nodded. "I see some of you Dawnguard know at least a little about your work. Lady Serana, what would you have us do with them? Fools they may be, but they're dangerous."

She nodded. "Very perceptive, Vingalmo. Those two in the armor are definitely dangerous. I wouldn't trust them beyond the gate. But… Someone must be thanked for my return. I'll take the one in the robes in. Sigvald, yes?"

Without much choice in the matter, Sigvald nodded. Despite the fact his blood was running cold, he managed to speak without stammering. "Yes, it was. I'll of course accept the invitation." He turned to his two friends, both were stood mouths agape and eyes twitching. "You two should make way home. We don't want to make the residents angry. Trust me. I'll arrive home myself shortly."

Vingalmo spat at Amiatu. "Yes, you'd best be off. It's enough we're forgiving Dawnguard presence on our land. But I smell it. The stench of the wolf." He glared at the Redguard.

Eyes wide, Amiatu grabbed Adannea and turned to leave. "Don't get yourself killed, Sig." Quietly, he whispered to Adannea. "Don't freak out. I guess I'll be explaining on the ride back."

Now beginning to sweat slightly, Sigvald took a breath and turned back to Serana. "Well then. I suppose we'll be stepping in. Please, lead the way."

Laughing, Vingalmo strode past. "Well-mannered, isn't he? I suppose we can allow him a quick peek at Castle Volkihar." He threw open the doors. Within was, as Sigvald had expected, a scarcely lit and cold castle. But once they reached the stairs leading downward, the place truly looked like a vampire's lair.

An eccentric dining room had been set, two great wood tables stretching from one end of the floor to the other. Opposite the room from the stairs was a third table, with some strange platform above it, and slightly behind. A pair of death hounds sat, one on either side of this table, growling quietly at the new arrival. Upon each of the two long tables was a person, hopefully dead. Both seemed incredibly young, and Sigvald recognized one. It was the girl from Markarth he had been investigating the disappearance of.

Before the far table, a tall man in an outfit of deep red and black stood. His cape fell to his waist, and the candlelight was reflected off his shoulder plates. Like everyone else seated around him, his eyes burned orange. He opened his arms wide. "Serana. My daughter. At long last you return to us. I have waited far too long…"

Sigvald stood back as Serana walked slowly to her father. As she went to embrace him however, he stopped her. "Wait… Who is this?" His gaze fell on Sigvald.

Despite his desire to stay on the edge of the room, he found he was without options when Vingalmo shoved him forward. Shuffling slightly closer to the man, he quietly said. "I… Um, I am Sigvald Enriksson. Er, of Ivarstead. I… I thank you for allowing me into your truly grand estate." Rather awkwardly, he bowed before him.

The man nodded, eyebrow raised. "Interesting. A mortal who knows his place. I…" He stopped himself when he noticed the Dawnguard emblem emblazoned on Sigvald's chest piece. "Or perhaps simply one who knows when he's beat. One day back, and you're already catching vampire hunters?" He turned with a smile to Serana.

Certain that if the Lord thought that were true, his own life would be cut woefully short, Sigvald quickly spoke up. "Well, though that is – Um, well, mmm – my trade, I actually… Am the one who brought your daughter back here. More of a guide than anything. But I certainly wasn't hunting her… Your Grace?"

Seeing Seranna nodding, the Lord sighed. "Well then. Odd as it is, I suppose I owe you my thanks, Sigvald Enriksson of Ivarstead. You may refer to me as Lord Harkon. A pity. I quite enjoyed your fumbling for a proper title. What would have been your next attempt?"

Eyeing the rest of the room, Sigvald continued much quieter than before. "Well… Your Lordship, I suppose."

Despite his best attempts, it seemed like the vampires seated at either table had indeed heard him. A great chuckle rose from the whole mass. Though he joined in their laughter, Sigvald felt he was very much on the edge of fainting. The laughter began to die down as Harkon motioned for quiet.

Once the noise settled, Harkon's eyes fell upon Sigvald again. "Well then Sir Enriksson, I suppose you expect some sort of reward, no?"

Sigvald raised his hands and shook his head quickly. "Oh no, no no no. I couldn't possibly impose upon you so much. Truth be told, I –"

Harkon laughed now. "Please, I insist. I must reward such gracious behavior from a mortal. I wonder what you'd prefer? A few Septims, or perhaps something more… Great." He approached, scanning Sigvald's face. "Truly, the best reward I could offer to you is our great power."

Though quieter, Sigvald continued shaking his head. "Oh no, really I couldn't. I don't see myself as a vampire."

Once more, the room was filled with laughter. This time, however, Sigvald had no earthly idea what they were laughing at. That is, until Harkon continued. "Ah, but I feel you don't quite understand the situation. I'm not offering to make you a vampire. At least, not merely a vampire. My daughter, as you no doubt know, is of pure blood. My family underwent the rituals. Like her, I am not a normal vampire. I am a true Vampire Lord. Would you like a demonstration?"

Trying to calm himself, realizing he had thrown himself into a room with an unknown number of pure-blooded vampires, Sigvald again tried to turn it down. "Goodness – I, um – no, no. I believe you, honest. But, you see, I just don't want to be a vampire is all… Any kind of vampire…"

Finally relenting, Harkon turned. "Very well. You'll receive, say… Four hundred Septims? I'm quite disconnected from society these days, though I'm sure that's still a substantial amount. Then you will be escorted from our island. Oh yes, and do keep in mind, that should you return with your Dawnguard friends… You will all be butchered before my gate."

Sigvald nodded. "Ah, yes, my thanks Lord Harkon. Rest assured, I'll be staying quite a distance… Yes. Nice and far."

…

Braythyr Redoran, Earl of Ebonheart, had no doubt gained a considerable amount from the Lorethius takeover. The new king had been all too generous to House Redoran. The Redoran family had worked closely with the Lorethius. They offered themselves as willing donors of blood, sharing with a clan member who would stay ever near them. For this gift of sustenance, they were made governors, generals, and advisors.

Most curious of these cases was Braythyr himself. He had been made Earl of Ebonheart, a castle just outside the capital of Vivec. He was often in the Palace, advising or simply chatting with the King and those in his court. But unlike his fellows, he shared with no one. This secret was known only by King Viantar and himself, of course. He had always felt his position was in danger because of this.

The tragedy he had now suffered, the loss of his daughter Salyni, was a direct effect of this. He had boldly offered her for the rituals to Molag Bal. He had hoped having a Daughter of Coldharbour as an actual daughter would insure his position. Now, he approached the Palace, having just yesterday worked up the nerve to seek audience with Viantar about it.

Suddenly, at his side, a strangely familiar fellow was walking with him. The Bosmer turned and gave a quick bow. "Ah, Earl Braythyr. A pleasure to see you again. Visiting the Palace? The Sharing isn't for a day more, I thought."

Ah, yes. That was it. This was the King's right hand, Menemir. A strange man, rarely in the Palace. He likely acted as a Spymaster of sorts. Braythyr forced a smile. "Ah, of course, Sir Menemir. I actually have different business with His Majesty."

"Is that so? At what time?"

Braythyr turned questioningly to him. "In a few moments. I'm headed to the audience now."

Menemir nodded. "I'd come back in an hour or two. I'll make sure to inform His Majesty of the rescheduling. He'll be unfortunately occupied for a bit. My thanks."

Without another word, Menemir sped off for the Palace. Braythyr was left standing, both confused and outraged, on the bridge just before the Palace itself. Knowing he had no authority over Menemir or the King himself, he resigned himself to another circling of the city.

…

The doors to the throne room opened. Viantar's head rose, and his brow furrowed as he saw Menemir enter. "Menemir… Have you seen our friend Earl Braythyr? He was supposed to arrive by now."

Falling to his knee, Menemir nodded. "Yes, my Lord. Apologies, but I turned him away for the next hour or so. I thought the news might stir you to some sort of action."

Though he sighed, Viantar knew that whatever Menemir had returned for was important. "I noticed I was unable to see or hear much."

Menemir rose, striding up to the throne to better be heard. "Yes. I fear that girl may very well be interfering with our link. Whatever the case, I knew you hadn't heard my thoughts. So I flew here soon after they arrived."

"Arrived? Explain, Menemir. The Dawnguard have the girl?"

Menemir paused, searching for the words. "No, my Lord. She led the three back to Castle Volkihar. Harkon has her now, as well as the scroll. I am unsure whether or not she trusts her father more than us. But whatever the case, Harkon has the scroll. He'll make sure he finds a way to read it soon, I'm sure."

Viantar nodded. "Damn… Well, he'll only have the prophecy. The bow is hidden too well. He'll not find it. Very few know of its location. Only you and I would be able to tell him anything."

"Ah, actually my Lord. I can't help but notice you've left out our co-conspirator."

Viantar chuckled. "I meant that we're the only ones who anyone would be able to find. I can at the least guarantee that no one will find Valerica."

End Chapter 3


	4. Chapter 4: Little Rest

Chapter 4: Little Rest

"Vampirism is actually spread much like any other disease. Legends argue over the first vampire and their origins, but most everyone knows how it spreads. The infamous bite. Interestingly, this is only the case if the biting vampire wishes for the victim to be turned. This allows them to feed without turning their victims. If bitten to be turned, the transformation will take three days, or seventy-two hours. In this time limit, the victim is largely unaffected, until the seventy hour mark." Excerpt from _Of Cursed Blood_

…

"Gods… Aldfing is dead?"

Sigvald was as pale as he had been in Harkon's hall. He had arrived a few hours after his friends. Adannea had left, probably blowing off steam by shooting things. Amiatu sat solemnly, eyes staring into the cold brick of the castle. He ran his fingers over the wolf head on one of his gauntlets, the armor left from his days as a Companion.

The Lieutenant, Theronard, nodded with his fixed scowl. "He insisted he brought me along, to help protect Orment. And I couldn't even protect him."

Sigvald shook his head. "I was with some of these vampires. If they're anywhere near as dangerous or powerful as I sensed Harkon and his court were, it's hardly your fault."

Theronard's expression softened, but he refused to life his eyes from the table he leant over. "Thank you Sigvald… Well, we can mourn properly when we're burning vampire corpses. You said there were at least two Vampire Lords?"

"Yes, Harkon and his daughter. Also several High Vampires I suspect. If we aim to take the castle, it would be quite the fight."

Amiatu turned from the wall. "Theronard, what about that plan you were talking about?"

Nodding, Theronard took a small book from the table. He passed it to Sigvald. As he read, Theronard explained. "Even before the attack on the Vigil, Aldfing was worried that the Dawnguard wasn't as ready as we could be. He had two people in particular he thought would fix that. A woman named Sorine Jurard, and a man named Gunmar."

He passed the book to Sigvald. Looking closer at it, it seemed to be Aldfing's journal. The handwriting was messy and unorganized. One of the pages had been filled with a list of names, most of which were crossed out now. Next to each of those was a word, seemingly explaining the removal from the list. Rather unnervingly, most were "dead".

The two left had been circled excitedly. Sorine and Gunmar's words likely were something related to them personally. Sorine's read "inventor", and Gunmar's rather curiously was "beasts".

Sigvald slid the journal into his robes, worriedly biting his lip. "So we're off to find these two, then? I… Don't suppose we could rest a day or two?"

Amiatu laughed, but his expression didn't soften a bit. "Sorry Sig. We don't get the luxury. But it gets better. Theronard, tell me again, where might we find these two?"

Not fond of the sarcasm, Theronard scowled. Knowing it was somewhat warranted though, he looked back to Sigvald. "Unfortunately, Aldfing didn't write anything down as to where to find these two. So I'll have to leave that to you as well. A thousand apologies."

…

The biting cold rain outside came crashing down on Castle Volkihar. From the foot of the isle, the place looked torn straight frightful campfire tale. From the coast of Skyrim, one could hardly see the island, made to seem empty by the powerful illusions at work. But within the keep, the tone was one of levity and merriment.

The fire pits on either side of the room burned bright and warm. The tables were laden with bottles, goblets, and glasses, all filled with the blood of fine gentlefolk, stored for such an occasion. The whole clan had gathered within the dining hall, all desperate to speak with the lost daughter of their Lord. Harkon himself was beside her all night, a smile on his face like none his followers had seen in many, many years.

Just for the occasion, Fura had gone to the mainland to find a bard. The poor boy didn't even need a magical charm to convince him to come, he was smitten. She enjoyed him enough; a few of his jokes and stories were genuinely entertaining. She of course neglected to tell him that he'd be joining the cattle soon enough.

Vingalmo brought back two goblets, his own and Harkon's. He smiled to Serana as he returned. "My lady. You've no idea how comforting it is to have you returned. I've not seen our Lord this happy in decades."

"Hush now." Harkon feigned indignity, but smiled wider as he watched Serana petting the hounds.

As she did, Vingalmo leaned in to Harkon. "My Lord, the scroll definitely seems to be the one. Unfortunately, we've no way to read it. Not until we find a Moth Priest."

As Harkon nodded, the idle chatter and cheerful tunes hushed. Harkon turned to look on the center of the chamber. There, in a cloud of blue, ghostly smoke, stood King Viantar. At least, an extension of him. The astral projection stood tall, eyes scanning the room. As they fell on Harkon, his expression soured.

"Lord Harkon. I hear word you've laid waste to the Hall of the Vigilant. A rather aggressive course of action, no?"

Harkon smirked, but bowed nonetheless. Disagreements they may have, but what Viantar had achieved in Morrowind was impressive. "Yes, I will admit. I'm sure things are more tense out there now. But I assure your Majesty, it was for a fair cause we took these drastic measures."

Viantar shook his head. "I see… It was a mistake to tell you about the scroll. Even without the prophecy, the mere hint of more power was enough to blind you, it seems."

The room was quiet. Harkon rose, smirk now a full smile. "Complain all you want. I've made my choice. I can't very well stop now, can I? All I need now is a Moth Priest, and I can uncover what it is you and your sister fought so fiercely for back in the day."

"Don't you dare..." The room went ice cold, the fires nearly blown out by the winds from the image. As it settled down, Viantar regained his composure. "No… The Empire keeps too close an eye on their priests. To take one of them would risk bringing the Empire down upon us both."

"You would make to stop me then?"

Viantar shook his head. "I know I cannot. But I can stop a war. I know the prophecy. But it is a fool's vision, shortsighted and self-destructive…" Seeing Harkon make no move to stop him, Viantar sighed and continued. "There is an ancient Mer relic known as Auriel's Bow. If firing an arrow infused with-" He paused, eyes flickering briefly from Harkon to Serana and back. "… Vampiric blood aimed at Magnus, it shall be shrouded by an unnatural shadow. The world would be cast into an eternal night."

All in the room now stared intently at Harkon. Removing their greatest weakness from existence? They would rule Tamriel! Clearly, Harkon agreed. "I see… You've grown soft. Perhaps ruling over these mortals as subjects instead of livestock has weakened your resolve. In this endless night… I shall forge _my_ imperium. You may leave, your highness."  
He smiled, and began marching off to his chamber. "I've no more use for you."

As Harkon exited, the projection faded, the smoke dispersing. As it did, light and warmth returned to the room. The jubilance was now replaced by hushed words of ambition and scheming. As people started to file out, Vingalmo returned to Serana's side.

"Well, it seems that we'll be able to proceed faster than expected. Now we just need to find this bow." His sly grin softened into a genuine smile. "Ah… But my manners. I forget. It is far too good to have you once more with us, my Lady Serana."

She smiled back, shaking her head. "We're lucky those three found me. Looking at the world now, a lot's changed. How long has it been?"

Vingalmo nodded. "About a century and a half now. And it is true, we were lucky to find such cooperative souls. Perhaps that Sigvald fellow will join us when the time comes. He'll be getting another opportunity soon enough, I hope."

Seeing the confusion from her, Vingalmo paused in his confident musings. "Oh? Apologies, my Lady, I had assumed you knew. We've already made a move to solve our Dawnguard problem. Soon enough, this'll all be over."

…

Three horses were fetched and fitted from the fort's stables. As the day drew to a close, Amiatu, Sigvald, and Adannea rode slow and silent down the trail to Riften. Vile as the place was, it was an excellent stop for information. One only had to keep a hand on their coin purse. Once the fort was a ways behind, Sigvald cleared his throat.

"Uh… So, Amiatu… What was that at Harkon's Castle, exactly? About the… Stench of the wolf?"

Amiatu shook his head, free hand resting upon his gauntlet. Nodding to himself, he looked off toward the sunset. "Well… During my time in the Companions, I was pretty well known, yeah? A good warrior. Even made it into the Circle. The best of the best. But…"

He paused. Adannea finished. "But he was stupid. He let himself get arrogant and was turned into a werewolf. Idiot as he is, he's kept it. Says it's a good thing to have, just in case. His words, not mine. I personally think he-"

"Look, let's just drop it, alright? I would've preferred to just keep going without you guys knowing. I mean, it doesn't change anything about me. I'm still in control. I just…"

The further explanation never came, and neither of his friends pressed further. They rode the rest of the way in silence, each contemplating in different ways what this meant, if anything.

They reached Riften without any trouble. The sun had fully set now, the forest dark alongside the roads. The North gate stood guarded, as always, by the usual thugs. Recognizing the armor of the Dawnguard, the toughs stood back. The three left their horses behind and entered the city.

Riften was a den of crime and corruption, and had been for ages. It very much looked the part. The cobbled stone and old wood of the buildings' walls were dirty and cracked. Vines and weeds grew in abundance. The stagnant canal in the city's lower level was forever swarming with bugs. There a handful of places that seemed in any repair, most of them owned by the Black-Briars. The other two were the inns: Haelga's Bunkhouse and The Bee and Barb. The Bee and Barb was always more busy, so the three made for that building, making sure the torchlight gleamed off their weapons to discourage any pickpockets.

Of course, it was thieves they were here to see anyway. As the doors swung shut behind them, Adannea searched for familiar faces. She sent her companions off for drinks as she spotted one opposite the floor. As Brynjof drank in silence, staring into nothing, Adannea softly fell over his back.

As he arms wrapped around him, she smiled at his surprise. "Gods, Brynjolf. You're lucky it was me. That's unlike you, huh?"

She sat opposite him, relieved to see him smiling again. "By the Nine, lass. What did I use to tell you about sneaking up on us, huh? Ah, but it is good to see you, don't misunderstand. What're you doing back in Riften?"

"I was hoping to run into someone from the Guild here. I need a favor Brynjolf. I'm looking for some people."

Brynjolf's grin grew wider. "Oh? Hope you aren't keeping valuable scores from us lass. On leave or no, that'd get you in trouble with Gallus."

"Oh, relax. If I'd heard anything I thought you'd like to hear, I'd tell you. Not saying they _don't_ have anything valuable on 'em, just that I don't know. Not why I'm looking for them."

He nodded, taking another drink. "And who are you looking for? I can help, but I'll need names."

"Sorine Jurard, and Gunmar. Heard the names?"

He thought for a moment. Finishing his drink, he leaned back, eyes closed. "Well… Haven't heard about this Gunmar lad. But I know the other. This Jurard lady was poking around somewhere near Markarth. She's apparently got a few ideas for contraptions in her head."

Adannea eyed him curiously. "What does the Guild care about that?"

"Lass, an idea can be a valuable thing. Especially when sold to the right people."

Seeing that her friends had finished, and were now searching for her, she rose to leave. "Thanks Bryn. We might come back after we find the one, so see if anyone else knows about this Gunmar guy."

"So quick to leave lass? What's the hurry? Afraid to let your friends know you sleep with thieves?" Even as she strode away, she knew her grin was as big as his. Hopefully this would be over soon. It would be nice to take a break from the Dawnguard after, relax in Riften a bit. Decrepit and depressing as it was, so long as he was here, it was home enough.

End Chapter 4


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